


In the Shallow Pools of Faroe

by Cheer_The_Underdog_On



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Breeding, M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheer_The_Underdog_On/pseuds/Cheer_The_Underdog_On
Summary: Geralt gets bred by a sea monster off the shores of Faroe, and he likes it.
Relationships: Geralt/Sea Monster
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	In the Shallow Pools of Faroe

“Suspend your disbelief at the story I am going to tell you.” The man begins looking around the roadside tavern. The people here are journeymen of the world. Many of them do not stay in a town but a fortnight or less, but here they are gathered by the lowlight of the hearth for the last mug of ale before the keeper turns them out or orders them to a room. “But everyone must here about the sight I stumbled upon a fortnight ago, off the shallow pools at Faroe under the full moon.”

“Bah, no one wants to hear about that bloody island.” Another patron waves him off, “Where did the bard go? Let’s get some music in here.” He raises his glass and shows a coin to the room. Many of the patrons roll their eyes. It’s too late for music and revelry. The hour has come and gone, and now stories of the dark wonders of the world are flowing out.

The storyteller, a traveler, rolls his eyes at the man who has chirped him and continues to the few others in select spots around the tavern. They are not so far off from Faroe that news from the tiny island doesn’t peak their interest. “I was traveling by lantern light and the moon traveling along the back trails to do some showing off me wares: knifes, metalwork and the like, and I’m passing by the beach--”

“Is this another monster story from Faroe? We’ve heard already about the giant beast that drowns and eats people in the pools. There’s a contract out for it. Saw one posted at Fyke Isle just last week.” Another patron drawls out as she sips her ale, “Heard a Witcher was seen on boat to Faroe to kill it.”

“And he was! Gods, will you let a man tell a story.” The merchant huffs.

“Get on with it then!”

The merchant sighs and starts one last time. If he is interrupted again, he won’t even bother finishing. “Hear me out. Never seen anything like it.”

Geralt had traveled to Faroe on word of contract from Fyke Isle. Long had a giant sea creature hunted in the pools of Faroe, and the locals would have no more of it snatching their young people or taking down their small fishing boats. It wasn’t a massive thing. Not a sea dragon or the like. Just a sea creature of two boat lengths. If not a Witcher, then a mage would be forced to come and solve the problem. Geralt heard the people’s story of woe and set off across the white sand beaches of Faroe towards the southern pools with Roach. He had heard of similar issues before on the coastline villages. A giant sea creature that seemed to want only one thing. Geralt had heard of the problem being solved in numerous ways, but seeing as this contract was now his, he took it upon himself to solve the riddle of the sea creatures hunts.

The grass waved in the wind around his feet as he walked across the dunes towards the shoreline. The air smelled of brine and life. Geralt looked to the rockline, studying it for a bit. He removed his armor and his weapons, placing them in a place where the salty air might not damage them before walking into the sea. The sea was cold against his skin, and even under the heat of a warm summer night, Geralt couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the water now pressing against him. He swam languidly out into the sea pool. The soft sand under his feet was interspersed with the occasional rock, and Geralt just pray he was correct about his suspicions. Dread began to creep up his stomach into the root of him, and now he wonder how foolish this plan actually was. Just as he was about to turn and make his attempt back to the shore, he felt it. It was soft and slippery against his outer hip. Bracing himself, he felt the next tentacle against his ankle. And then all at once, he was underwater.

For a moment, Geralt thought he was dying, and what an embarrassing way to die. Hopefully the other Witchers would think he’d only gone out for a swim or to kill the monster, not the more unseemly solution he had selected for this delicate situation. His lungs screamed for air, but he tried not to fight the pull of the monster. Soon he found himself with his head above water again, but the grip around him between the tentacles and suckers did not falter. There was one wrapped around his left ankle and another around the upper part of his right thigh. They parted his legs for him. The soft wetness all around him felt gelatin like in sensation.

He knew somewhere underneath the monster fins was a sharp mouth, ready to shred him at a moment’s notice, but he felt no beak, just the curious searching of the tentacles along his body. The tentacles began to roam his body. At first it spread his legs, but then another tentacle wrapped around his waist. One found his open mouth and pushed in with a gentle exploration. When it went too far, Geralt found himself gagging. The two big watching black eyes seemed not to push any deeper than that, and Geralt thanked the monster by hesitantly finding himself sucking on the tentacle tip in his mouth. It tasted of the sea and fish. It tangled the tip of its tentacle with Geralt’s tongue, and beyond himself, he let out a whine.

Instantly he knew, in for a penny, in for a pound. The Witcher felt himself beginning to flag. Even the idea of this monster doing what it wanted to Geralt’s body was enough for the White Wolf to find himself hardening all the more. The sea monster’s grip found him finally, and while nothing like a human touch, Geralt wanted it all the more. His entrance had already been prepared on the shoreline, but still, the hard slippery piece which has found his cheeks seemed lost, pressing and prodding until with a bit of force, it entered him.

Geralt very rarely felt satisfied by sex. While he was infertile, his body did not necessarily crave sex for pleasure the way human’s did, but for a simple useless urge to breed. To mate. Geralt let the sea monster pump its seed into him, pressing its appendage against his sensitive prostate and filling him up until he was bloated and aching. Yet he spent in the water. He spent maybe three, four times for the creature in the late heat of the night. The creature cared nothing about his feelings. It simply used him to breed before slipping off ever slowly back into the water and out to sea.

Geralt gasped as he was released into the deep water. He could not touch the seafloor, but after some lazy kicking back towards the shore, he found sand, walking his way back. His body collapsed to rest on the shore as he lamented his now empty hole, oozing the pink seed of the monster. Not that it would do anything to him, but the excitement at having seed inside him made Geralt feel that familiar heat once more in his belly. From now on, that monster would know him, and he would always know it, have been marked by it.

Crawling to his knees, he looked at his arms and wrists, covered by the bruises that now kissed his body left behind by the gentle suction cups of the tentacles. He would carry memory of this night with him for at least a week, until his healing factor robbed him of the pleasure of his markings.

“No way,” Someone hollered from the back of the tavern. “A Witcher would never fuck a monster. That’s just straight lies.”

“It’s true!” The merchant cried, “I saw a Witcher make love to a sea monster under the full moon off the cliffs of Faroe.”

“Bah, probably the monster was a human under a curse or something. Witchers kill things without batting an eye. Bout only thing they won’t kill is those damn boars bothering the pumpkin fields in Novigrad. Lazy curs.” A patron grunted.

“Ey,” Barkeep said to the few brutes left in his tavern, “I’ll have none of that bad mouthing Witchers here. Continue your story, metalsmith.”

“As I was saying, it’s true. Witcher collapsed on the shore, saw the pink slime of the sea monster leaking out of him with my own eyes, but, fisherman say they haven’t seen sight nor sign of the beast since.” The merchant grinned, glad someone at least appreciated hearing about what he had seen.

“Only been a week though.” Someone argued, “Should have just killed the thing is what I say.”

The bard from earlier had come down stairs to get one last plate of hot stew. He watched the lot arguing and looked to the barkeep, “This sound like anything to you?”

“The bored stories of lonely minds and horny merchants more like it.” The tavern owner rolled his eyes, “Geralt of Rivia from what I heard wouldn’t even take off his armor, let alone, fuck a monster of all things.” He snorted.

“Aye,” Jaskier said, taking the bowl, “Just a story then.” He said, with a knowing smile.

“Just a story then.” The innkeeper laughed, watching as the man went back to his room.


End file.
